Child of the Night
by nerdnextdoor19
Summary: The fellowship had just left Elrond's household, and while the road had been hard, danger had not yet crossed their path. Early one morning, as Legolas watched the sun rise on his watch, an agonized scream changed everything. What happens when a strange girl is thrust into the battle against Sauron. She will raise hell, set fire to the world, and raize it to the ground.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Hello peoples, readers, nerds, hobbits, elves or whatever you might be. This is my first fic (on this account, lol don't judge I'm really bad with forgetting account information). I'm gonna post maybe a chapter or two and let the feedback roll in, I might delete them and repost with updated content (ya'll are basically the beta-reader I do not yet have) as I'm always up for critique and kinda wanna start this on a good note, I'd hate to wish I did something different to start so please hit me up with the ideas. I am also looking for an active beta, so if you're up for it lemme know._**

 ** _I've got a little prologue taken straight from the genius that is Tolkien, obviously I do not own that bit or his characters and world etc. etc. I'm essentially sticking an OC or two into the timeline and seeing how they shake things up. I hope to break hearts and...well nah breaking hearts is about all I'm here for. Currently this is a Legolas/OC fic, but things could change and be added as the story progresses. Imma go with it, or wing it I guess._**

 ** _Also I ah...I'm a science student...so don't expect fast updates please, especially as exam time is approaching, so I must begin studying...or stuDYING. I do have chapter two already written, but I will upload it either tomorrow, or whenever I feel chapter one is decent enough to roll with._**

 ** _Anywho, hate or enjoy it, I look forward to reading your comments (I'm begging for comments here, if you couldn't tell), nerd is out *dab and exit*_**

 _Prologue_

At the Ford of Bruinen they left the Road and turning southwards went on by narrow paths among the folded lands. Their purpose was to hold this course west of the Mountains for many miles and days. The country was much rougher and more barren than in the green vale of the Great River in Wilderland on the other side of the range, and their going would be slow; but they hoped in this way to escape the notice of unfriendly eyes. The spies of Sauron had hitherto seldom been seen in this empty country, and the paths were little known except to the people of Rivendell.

Gandalf walked in front, and with him went Aragorn, who knew this land even in the dark. The others were in file behind, and Legolas whose eyes were keen was the rearguard. The first part of their journey was hard and dreary, and Frodo remembered little of it, save the wind. For many sunless days an icy blast came from the Mountains in the east, and no garment seemed able to keep out its searching fingers. Though the Company was well clad, they seldom felt warm, either moving or at rest. They slept uneasily during the middle of the day, in some hollow of the land, or hidden under the tangled thorn-bushes that grew in thickets in many places. In the late afternoon they were roused by the watch, and took their chief meal: cold and cheerless as a rule, for they could seldom risk the lighting of a fire. In the evening they went on again, always as nearly southward as they could find a way.

 _Chapter One:_

As always, Aragorn rose Legolas for the third watch, it was his task to guard the fellowship until dawn broke, as he had done since their departure from Rivendell. Legolas sat on the face of a rock, slightly away from his slumbering companions but still near the warmth of the fire, anticipating the rising heat of the sun to warm his cold bones. They were surrounded by cliff faces, following a path down to the low ridge crowned with ancient holly-trees. He held his bow across his lap, an arrow held loosely in his fingers, but even hours later, it seemed the sun was not rising. The sky was a dull grey, the chill in the air dulling the colours of the barren lands around him. The strangest thing was the silence, the winds from the north had ceased their screaming, though they had left their frost behind, and even the birds had gone silent. There was a tension in his muscles, and a nagging at the back of his mind that had him reaching to wake Aragorn from his rest, and that was when the silence was broken.

His companions shocked awake, lunging for weapons and protection as the sound of a piercing scream ripped through their camp, the absolute pain and terror in that shrill screech driving the cold even further into their bones. Legolas and Aragorn shot towards the sound, Gimli only a few steps behind, their weapons drawn and ready for battle. They bounded across the ridge, dodging holly-trees as they rounded a small outcropping in the cliff faces above them, turning to see a small opening in the face of the rock, tunneling down into the mountain. The darkness tunneled down, with a small red heart of the light of a fire distant in the darkness. The scream sounded again, vibrating off the sides of the tunnel, assaulting his elvish ears quite brutally, but with one look from Aragorn, they both ducked down into the tunnel, now sprinted towards whatever was making that agonizing wail.

They burst into a small, brightly lit cavern just as the screams shifted to angry yelling, distinctly similar to Elvish, but somehow unintelligible to the Elven prince, and the Orcs scrambled to gag the screamer. A small group of orcs were huddled around a figure on a stone table, a pile of rags and blood, which dripped off the table and pooled at their feet. Legolas sent an arrow between the eyes of a smaller orc that was shoving a dirty cloth into the mouth of the figure as the other startled towards their weapons, but they didn't have the chance to wield them. Aragorn spun between the orcs, Elendil ripping through muscle, bone and sinew, severing heads from their shoulders as Legolas picked off the remaining orcs, with even Gimli getting into the action, catching up just in time to sent his axe soaring through the air and into the temple of an orc who had just managed to get his grimy fingers around the shaft of his weapon.

In the silence of the aftermath of their skirmish, the bloodied figure spat out the rag, and the raspy sounds of breathing filled the cavern, the figure rolled onto their side and spat out a wad of blood, eyes closed as they passed out of consciousness.

Quickly, Legolas went to the side of the figure, and was shocked to see she was a female, her hair was simply matted with blood, her clothes torn to shreds, but the feminine figure and structure of her face was clear to see. Legolas couldn't help but roll her to face him, gently untying the knots from around her wrists that tethered her to the table, and when he saw the deep, bloodied grooves in her skin he could almost feel the pain of the rope ripping into his own flesh. With a graceful movement, Legolas picked her up, blood covering the front of his clothing, as he turned to his companions, the only thought in his mind was to protect the poor girl in his arms.

"Aragorn, we must get her to Gandalf," he pulled her closer to his chest, her head lolling to rest against the crook of his neck, her skin ice cold as she dribbled blood down the front of his tunic.

"Her?" Aragorn questioned, following in line with Legolas as Gimli took the lead exiting the tunnel, he peered over Legolas' shoulder, trying to discern the feminine form from the bloodied figure in his arms, "What are the orcs doing torturing a woman? And a human at that."

Legolas didn't give an answer, glancing down at the poor woman in his arms, she couldn't be far out of her adolescence, her hair glued with thick blood to the sides of her face, reaching down to the centre of her back. Her features were soft and young, he couldn't even tell her hair colouring due to how much blood was coating her, he hoped it wasn't all hers.

Dwarf, man and elf hurried back up the tunnel, rounding the cliff face, running to their camp, yelling at the hobbits to clear a space and roll a bedroll for a cushion for the poor girl's head. Legolas set her down as gently as he could, placing her head onto the soft bedroll, shifting to support her head between his legs as Gandalf hurried to her side.

"What happened, what is this?" Gandalf yelled, throwing the sleeves of his robe out of his way as he examined the body of the poor girl.

"We found her in a cave just around that cliff," Aragorn replied, breath irregular as he regained his composure, "a small group of orcs were torturing her, she lost consciousness just as we arrived."

Gandalf ran his staff over the length of her body, muttering spells in the Old Tongue, as Legolas gently pulled her hair off of her face, pulling it free from the congealing blood, his fingers coming away red and tacky. She stirred loosely, groaning in pain as Gandalf forced her weakened body back to health, knitting bone and tissue back together with snaps and cracks. Legolas couldn't help but wince at each crack, feeling the pop within his own bones, imagining the pain she must be undergoing.

Boromir loomed over the girl, mistrust clear in his eyes as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, "this may be some trick, how do you know there are no more?"

"We have slain those with her, no remained," Legolas snapped back, "trick or no, she needs our help, if you are so concerned keep watch elsewhere."

Boromir made a gruff sound of disapproval, but stalked off towards the cliff face, sending a scathing look at the girl over his shoulder. Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder, meeting his gaze with a cool acceptance, acknowledging the elves obvious annoyance with their companion.

Legolas stayed at her side for hours, through every second of Gandalf's healing, through Sam coaxing some water through her split lips, and especially through Boromir complaining about the sheer amount of time they were wasting with the girl.

"We are wasting a day of travel on that frail little thing," he bellowed, waving his arms in exasperation, "look at the blood coating her, she will not survive the night! We should move on and leave her here, or better yet take her out of her misery, I will do it myself."

Boromir drew his sword with a screech of metal on metal, the heavy sword glinting in the light of the sun. He glared at the girl on the ground, stalking forward with malicious intent clear in his eyes. Legolas rolled to the girl's defence without a second thought, stopping with a crouch between her and the steward-prince, an arrow taut in his bow, aimed directly between the mans eyes.

"You will not touch her!" He yelled, holding his arrow straight and true, expressionless as Aragorn and Gimli took their places behind him, their weapons drawn and held loosely in their grips.

Boromir let out a roar, sheathing his sword angrily, stalking off towards the cliff faces, "you will regret this elf, if we die it is on you and that feeble little bitch.

The three relaxed slowly, silence heavy but for the raspy breathing of the girl behind them, as they watched the angry man stomping away from them. Legolas turned to the girl, her face peaceful in sleep, blood hardening on her skin in an almost black layer across her face and body. With a sigh, he strung his bow over his shoulder, and laid beside the girl, staring at the blue skies above them.

When the sun reached its peak, and the warmth thoroughly warmed their skin, Legolas carried the girl down to a small river, and he and Aragorn began to clean the blood from her hair and skin. They were quickly swimming in blood, dark red mingling with the clear blue of the water, creating a trail down the river. They peeled her bloodied and hardened clothing from her skin, leaving her in her underclothes as they beat the blood from her clothing. Her skin was revealed as a light olive colour, light freckles spotting her cheeks and nose, running down to her shoulders. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the softness, teasing out knots as he went, slowly revealing her dark brown hair. Now mostly free of the blood, he could make out her distinct facial features, she had a small slender nose and sharp cheekbones, and couldn't have been more than 20 years old. He and Aragorn gently pulled her tunic back over her head, looping her arms through her sleeves, and pulled her legging on. Legolas sat in the water, holding her on his lap, letting her soak in the fresh waters, hoping to further soothe her sore and damaged skin.

"Where are her injuries?" Aragorn asked, shocking him out of his stupor.

"What do you-" He trailed off, now noting the lack of injuries, pale white scars ran across her stomach and chest, trailing down her arms and across her legs. "That's very peculiar, she doesn't seem to have any wounds, so where did all that blood come from?"

They sat there for a few minutes, words beyond the both of them, eventually just picking the strange girl up, returning to the camp.

"Gandalf," Aragorn said as Legolas set the girl back on her little bedroll, "the girl lacks any injuries, despite all that blood, did you really heal her to that extent."

Gandalf had a knowing smile, turning to Aragorn with a twinkle in his eyes, "oh no my dear Aragorn, she did most of my work for me."

Gandalf turned, watching the breathing of the girl, humming softly, clearly not willing to disclose more information on the matter.

And so, they sat, spending the rest of the day at their small camp, much to the disgust of Boromir. The hobbits however, they were having a wonderful time, taking careful time and energy to cook quite a delicious meal, and as night fell, they feasted under the stars, next to the slumbering dark-haired girl. Legolas slept near the poor girl, his hand on his bow and his quiver half-slung onto his back, as Boromir took first watch as usual. Several hours later, Aragorn shook him awake, but this time he did not go to the rock face to watch the rising sun. He sat next to the girl, one hand stroking the hair out of her face, as he couldn't help but try to calm her as she shifted restlessly, making distressed noises as she tossed and turned.

Suddenly, she shocked awake, one hand knocking his hand away from her face, the other flying to her waist as if reaching for a weapon that was not there. She flipping to a crouch, hands pulled back into a defensive position, hair flying wildly and she yelled out words in a language he did not recognize. The words were distinctly similar to his Elvish tongue, but were not anything he recognized, which was extremely strange as he was well versed in all Elvish languages past and present. His companions burst awake at her shouts, reaching for weapons as they did the previous night, pausing as Legolas yelled for them to relax and not frighten her. Only Gandalf stood calmly and relaxed, leaning on his staff looking down on the fierce girl, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. Legolas looked up at the girl in front of him, hands out defensively, staring into the truly memorising eyes of the girl he had been caring over for hours. Twin piercing silver eyes shone back, fear and shock lighting them with a fire, illuminating them like the moon was lit up behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Heyo, so here's chapter two, thanks for the traffic, favourites and follows, I much appreciate it ;)**

 **Lemme know how this is, if you think I should take a different path with my OC lemme know, I wanted to try something out of style for the Lord of the Rings and want to make sure it flows and isn't too jarring.**

 **Happy reading, leave me a review, and have a wonderful day**

 _Chapter 2:_

The girl's eyes jolted from each member of the fellowship, alarm clear in her eyes as her muscles tensed, ready to defend herself. She shouted once more in her strange language, and to Legolas's surprise, Gandalf responded in a smooth, calm voice, smiling as the woman locked eyes with him. He spoke again, and the woman slowly lowered her arms, relaxing to sit on her heels, her body language clearly calmer, although the silver fire remained in her eyes. A few words were exchanged between the two, before Gandalf switched to the common tongue.

"I would ask all of you to lower your weapons, our young Elleth wishes us no harm, she was simply startled from her rather drastic change of location," he smiled, looking over his shoulder at each member of the fellowship, his gaze settling on Legolas.

"Elleth?" Legolas asked, looking back at the woman before him, "She does not hold the look of any Elleth I know of, her skin and hair is dark, her ears are not pointed, how could she be an elf?"

"Legolas, I am sure you are aware of your history. At the Awakening of the Elves, those who did not travel to Valinor were known as the Avari, a tribe of Avari that survived traveled to an island north of the Shire. Our dear friend here is a descendant of those Avari, and her people share a few differences to yours. For instance, their language is similar to yours, but remains quite unique, I'm sure our new friend could teach you quite quickly."

The elleth rose to her feet, running her fingers over the tops of her ears, pulling her hair back tying the long locks atop her head, leaving a knot looping down to her mid-back. Now that her hair was out of the way, Legolas could see the white jagged edge on the top of each ear where he thought had been a rounded tip. She lowered her hands to her stomach, running her fingers across a white scar, cursing in the common tongue.

"What your wizard say is truth," she whispered, her voice cool with the touch of an accent, while she seemed to know the common tongue, she had some difficulty, "I am of the Avari, my tribe is now known as Lafean, or the Moon-riders in this tongue, we have few differences to the Eldar peoples."

Legolas stood, looking her up and down with a new scrutiny of detail, "I have never seen one of your people, it is not thought you exist."

"I am one of the first to visit your land, a select of us have lighter skin, better to blend with the white of these lands." She gave a small grin, almost a laugh, "Although they not match the light of your Elves, they must cover ears to show no points, those bastards saved me problem by cutting mine off."

Legolas was stunned, he simply could not move his stare from the jagged, ruined tips of her ears, he simply could not imagine having his ears sliced off, they were as much a part of his identity as his bow or his braids.

"It is no matter, they grow back, soon I be better," she smiled at Legolas, her eyes glinting with light, "my name is Ariael Tyrneanea, heir of the Children of the Night, I give thanks from saving from hellhole and those Firrah, dark beasts that cut me."

"What do you mean they'll grow back?" Gimli asked gruffly, shifting his axe to his left hand, "no elf I know of can grow back body parts."

"The Lafean capable of growing body parts, finger or toes, sometimes larger, longer takes to heal for larger, but my ears grow back eventually," she responded smoothly, not seeming to understand how remarkable the members of the fellowship would find that ability.

"Her people happen to have the blood of the Maiar, when even I was just a young lad a romance formed between a young woman of my people and the leader of the Avari. It seems that the magic of my people melds differently with the elves," Gandalf nodded at Ariael, "your healing is accelerated, as is a few of your other abilities, I would presume."

Gandalf gave the girl a wink, his eyes betraying his mischief, he clearly knew more about the Lafean and this strange girl than he was letting on, and he was more than okay with keeping the rest of the fellowship ignorant.

Legolas shook his head, "That is truly an extraordinary skill," he extended a hand towards her, "My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland realm, it is a pleasure to meet you."

She touched the back of his hand with the back of hers, her skin warm and smooth, moving to grip his forearm, shaking it slightly, "And who are companions, Legolas Greenleaf? I know of the Mithrandir, and recognize the race of men, but the short men and fat man are new sights to me."

Legolas couldn't help but grin as Gimli spluttered, clearly offended at the term 'fat man'. "The man to my left is Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, and to my right is Boromir, the Steward-Prince of Gondor. That fat man is Gimli the Dwarf, son of Gloin, and the short men behind me are hobbits."

Each of the hobbits bowed, giving their names to the elleth, each receiving a smile in return.

"Well I thank you for saving once more, but I must travel on, my brother is on own and I must find," She turned, heading off towards the rock face they had saved her from.

"Hold on my dear," Gandalf said, shifting his staff to his other hand, "You have not had anything to eat in quite the time, and it is far too early for you to search on your own, I suggest you spend the day with us and allow yourself to recuperate further before searching for your brother."

She paused, almost glaring at the sun as it shone its first rays over the rock face. "Alright Mithrandir, I suppose I can travel today with you, I appreciate much, but first I wish find my gear."

Gandalf smiled, "No worries my dear, we shall send our Elf with you back to the horrid cave so you can retrieve your supplies, in the meantime our dear hobbits can prepare us breakfast."

Not two minutes later, Legolas had his bow and quiver strung over his back as he escorted the Elleth to the cavern they had found her in, she moved quietly, her feet petals on the rough rock, making not a sound.

"So Ariael, may I inquire as to how old you are?" Legolas asked, trying to start a conversation in the silence between them.

"I be 237 in next year, very young, much life left to live," She rounded to corner, ducking her head into the dark tunnel, surprisingly without fear of the place of her torture.

"So why have you come to the mainland? I assume it is a rare occurrence among your people"

She continued down the tunnel, turning to look at him for a second, her silver eyes glowing in the darkness, "The Firrah killed my young sister, stole her daggers, very precious to my people, my brother and I must retrieve."

He nodded, "I am sorry for your loss, and wish you luck retrieving your people's daggers, I promise the assistance of my people as you need it."

She turned, her eyes piercing him through the blackness of the tunnel, "I am not trusting, your little men are quite funny, but the fat man is quite loud, and the steward-prince, this Boromir. I do not like him, he looms and scowls, I do not like his nature."

She took a step towards him, she was rather shorter than him, so her nose was almost touching his chin as she looked up at him with those glinting silver eyes.

"I not trust you people, but I will try to know you if you learn me," he could almost see her smile through the glow in her eyes, "I quite like the other man, Aragorn his name correct? He seems noble and honourable man, and he quite handsome."

Legolas grinned down at her, "Yes Gimli can be on the loud side, most dwarves are," when she turned to walk farther down the tunnel he added, "so what do you think of me then?"

She gave a sound almost similar to a laugh, "I have not read you fully yet, you seem to be noble as your friend, but seem lost. And I have strange feeling of you, not sure what to think of you, but right now I just wish to find my sisters daggers."

Legolas smiled, following in line with Ariael, "Well I wish you well retrieving those daggers."

She smiled, a glint in her eyes as she entered the lit cave, "Do not worry Legolas Greenleaf, my brother and I shall find our peoples daggers quite quickly, and lay waste to all those in our path," She turned, walking through the small puddle of blood, coating her feet without a second thought. She grabbed a small pack from the floor of the far side of the cavern, looping a black quiver and bow across her back, grabbing a pair of silver daggers and a couple sets of knives, strapping their sheaths to her forearms, waist and calves. She turned to Legolas with a feral grin, clearly much more at ease with her weapons returned to her.

"Well Legolas Greenleaf, I can already smell breakfast cooking, and it has been ages since I have proper meal, shall we hurry to return?" She grinned, twirling a short knife between her fingers, not even looking at the blade.

He gave a small chuckle, gesturing to the opening of the tunnel, allowing her to exit first, "After you my lady, I would hate to get between a hungry Elleth and her breakfast."

After they had broken their fast, and the hobbits had packed up their cooking things, they continued their long walk. She was laughing with the hobbits, joking with them as they walked, teaching them pieces of her language. Of what he could hear, it was quite similar to his language, he was already understanding quite a lot.

He learned that she was also looking for her brother, but not a brother by blood. The Lafean bonded two warriors at the age of 50, they trained together every day, learning every detail about each other, able to fight as one sword. They each picked a bonded name for each other at the age of 100, she had named her bonded brother Kainar, which held the meaning of brother dragon, but his father name was Hudrim, he who flies on the horses. He had named her Tahline, meaning blade sister, and thus she and he had marked each other as family, and he loved him as such. At her 50th year, her mother also gifted her a name, something that reflected her personality, her mother name was Lari, meaning night walker. Apparently the Lafean were skilled at stealth, able to walk undetected in the shadows of night, and were able to meld with the shadows as if they were shadows themselves. At her 100th year she was also able to choose her own name, and she chose Lyali, which means the shadow of the wolf. Her people seemed to also have an uncanny gift with animals, able to tame wild and feral beasts with their minds, and she happened to have an uncanny skill with wolves. It so happens she had recently been gifted a rare fifth name, the war name gifted to her by the entire Lafean people for when an Elf travels off to battle. Her brothers name was Caeluhar, meaning wise archer, while her name was Maiavain, or the spirit of death. Seemingly that was a joke among her people, as she was the raging spirit, rushing to complete her task, with the wise archer holding her under control, picking off those who threatened her as she rushed through her tasks. He was the wisdom that reined in the very heart of the warrior. It seemed her people held names at a very high honour, their house names were passed down through each generation, with children choosing to uphold he name of their choosing. Their spouses chose names for them upon marriage, used as terms of endearment just for the spouse, and the fathers passed their names down to their children through the father-name.

Her people held honour very high on their priorities, the orcs, or Firrah as they called them, had slaughtered her sister through a very dirty trap, as she thought she was saving a small child, only to be ambushed by an extraordinary number of orcs. They tortured her until she died, and stole her daggers, her people believed in order to restore her families honour the daggers must be regained, and the orcs who slaughtered her sister must be destroyed themselves.

They stopped walking for lunch, the hobbits bustling to prepare their food, and Legolas once more had the chance to converse with Ariael. The pair sat next to the small fire, Ariael whittling a small block of wood with a short knife, while Legolas watched her work, somehow drawn to her even as she sat there. Her head was cocked to the side, her tongue slightly stuck between her teeth.

"Ariael, what are you carving?" Legolas asked, trying to start a conversation.

"I'm working on water horse for my Caelular, as I have knack for wolves, he has for horses, and his favourite is water horse, I was hoping to give to him once I find him," she replied, turning to face him, a grin on her face, "after I beat him for getting lost.'

He laughed, looping his bow over his head to hold it in his lap, "I imagine he will be very happy to see you, how exactly did you get separated?"

She rolled her eyes quite dramatically, "He stayed in trees to pick off Firrah as I fought to leader, I hoped he had daggers. But horde closed around me and Caelular had to flee, I expect we meet at Gold trees, though I do not know where the gold trees are."

"Gold trees? That sounds like Lothlórien to me, we could guide you to Lothlórien if you would like, it is not terribly far off our course," he replied, leaning towards her.

"That would be much helpful, my thanks," she replied, placing her knife and wood on the ground before them, "I have not had much luck as of late, but I feel luck changed when you lifted me from that cave."

Legolas gave a small smile, lowering his eyes to the ground, "I hate to ask this of you Ariael, but what did they do to you?"

She too looked at the ground, shifting uncomfortably, "They had been torturing me for few days when you found me, cutting and burning and letting me heal. Short one did most, he quite angry I would not scream, until he hacked off my ear tips. But then you were there and he was gone."

Silence was held between them for a few minutes, before Legolas reached out a hand and placed it on hers, she smiled, gripping his fingers briefly before going back to her whittling, smiling happily as she basked in the glow and heat of the fire.

Legolas stood, pulling away from her, leaving her beside the fire as she whittled. He moved to stand next to Gandalf, the pair watching the strange elleth in her work, the wizard humming mindlessly.

"You knew she was an elf the moment you saw her, didn't you?" Legolas asked, giving Gandalf a side-glance before continuing to watch the elleth.

"Oh of course I did," he replied, pausing in his humming, "her people are very proud folk, and also very secretive, if I had revealed her identity I believe she would have run from us, and I wish for her to join us in our travels, she certainly would be an asset, she could be our new burglar."

Gandalf chuckled to himself at his little joke, pulling his pipe from his cloak, lighting it with a single movement of his staff as he shuffled towards the dwarf. Legolas simply shook his head, laughing to himself as rings of smoke danced into the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Heyo, sorry this took longer than expected, but exams are now finished and I am home, so I can now waste time writing instead of working off my student debt (hehe).**

 **I hope ya'll enjoy chapter three, I'm going to introduce another character or two within the next couple chapters, try and shake up the fellowship a wee bit more, so sit back and enjoy the story ;)**

They had finished packing up their things, ready to set off down their long road. The hobbits complaining of sore feet and little food, while Boromir complained of wasted time and resources on their new elleth friend, whilst Frodo tried to convince Aragorn to teach him some swordplay.

"Oh, please mister Strider, I do not wish to be guarded all the time," Frodo begged, looking up at the rather less than pleased Aragorn, "I wish to know how to defend myself, I don't want to be helpless."

Boromir had a rare smile on his face, "I'm sure we can teach you a few things, little master, you should know the basics of swordplay."

Legolas laughed as he watched all four of the hobbits sparring with Boromir and Aragorn. The hobbits had teamed up in pairs, with Merry and Pippin taking on Boromir while Sam and Frodo took on Aragorn. It seemed like Merry and Pippin had taken a rather offensive approach to their spar, taking turns slashing wildly at Boromir with their short little swords as Boromir did his best to deflect each of the strikes through his laughter. Frodo and Sam had taken quite the different approach, defending themselves from Aragorn's powerful strokes, their small arms shaking with each hit, but the two little hobbits held their ground.

Boromir let out a shout as Merry and Pippin dropped their swords and tackled him, dragging him to the ground through their yelling and laughter. Boromir grabbed each of them by their collars, struggling to pull the pair of them off of him as they punched his chest with their small fists.

A laugh next to Legolas made him start, his hands jumping towards the blades at his hips as he whipped around to see Ariael smiling down at Boromir and the hobbits wrestling on the ground in front of them. Legolas placed his right hand on his chest, his heart pounding as he tried to calm his breathing. She had tied her long hair into a bun on the top of her head, looping into a strange braid down her back with strands falling down each side of her face tucked behind her ears. She wore a loose black tunic with a pair of grey legging and her leather boots.

She turned to look at him, her silver eyes laughing, "I'm sorry, my Prince, I did not mean to startle you," she turned back to watch the hobbits, her arms casually crossed across her stomach.

Legolas turned back to watch the hobbits, Merry had now managed to climb on Boromir's shoulders, clinging to his back with his arms wrapped around the larger mans neck.

"Do not worry, my lady," Legolas said, his voice slightly forced as his breathing returned to normal, "you were not at fault, I am simply not used to be startled, I don't recall the last time anything managed to sneak up to me."

She grinned, giving him a devilish look, "my dear Prince, you will soon learn that I am no lady."

She cracked her knuckles, pulling a short knife from the sheath on her forearm, twirling it between her fingers before sheathing it once more, "I believe I told you that my people have a certain skill for stealth. You should stay on your toes, Prince of the Woodland realm."

Legolas chuckled, turning to see Merry and Pippin each standing on one of Boromir's arms, in a vain attempt to hold the much larger man down, "well I hope you can put that stealth to some use, else I do not think Boromir will be content to have you with us much longer."

"Boromir is a simple man, I will have him with me within the hour," she smiled at Legolas, with a little glint in her eye that made him uncomfortable, the elleth was definitely scheming something.

She turned and calmly walked up to Merry, Pippin and Boromir, grabbing each of the hobbits by their collars, hauling them off of a rather scruffy looking Boromir. The hobbits laughed, celebrating their victory by dancing around, thumping their large feet on the ground while Boromir brushed the dirt from the front of his tunic.

"My lord Prince-Steward," Ariael said, watching as Boromir picked himself off of the ground, "would you like real spar?"

Boromir let out a gruff laugh, "I do not fight women, I would not wish to hurt the young lady."

"Prince-Steward, I two centuries your senior and I no woman. I am an Elleth, we much less fragile then your little ladies."

Ariael had a wicked grin on her face as Boromir shifted uncomfortably, "alright elf, but I will not hold back simply due to your disadvantage."

As Boromir picked his great sword, Ariael slinked her two knives from the sheaths on her forearms, the twin silver blades glinting in the sunlight as she twisted them around each of her fingers. They turned to face each other, Boromir shifting his sword in his grip and he stared her down. The elleth shifted to a low stance, her feet wide apart and she leaned onto her back foot. Her left arm extended in front of herself, her hand gripping her knife defensively as her right hand held her second knife snug beneath her chin. Boromir would definitely have the upper hand, with the length of his great sword and his greater strength, Legolas prayed that Ariael was quick, or this would be a very short fight.

Legolas then noticed a distinct change in Ariael, her expression went blank, she seemed to sink into a calm, her entire body and mind focused on the man and the sword before her. Boromir seemed to sense the shift as well, as he warily shifted backwards to keep his weight on his heels.

Everything was still, neither elleth nor man making a move, the only sounds in the outcropping of rocks the sound of breathing. Ariael remained completely calm, while the tension was clear on Boromir's face. He scrunched his nose once or twice, shifted his grip on his sword, before bursting forward with a shout, swinging his sword over his head in a vicious strike.

Ariael reacted in a blink. She twirled on the balls of her feet, the knife in her right hand catching Boromir's blade with the base of her own, deflecting his blade to her left as she spun once more. Legolas felt his breath leave in a whoosh as she brought her knife down on Boromir's neck with a loud thud, sending him to his knees as he dropped his sword, his hands flying to his neck.

Every member of the fellowship was on their feet, other than the old wizard, each of them in disbelief as they watched Boromir on the ground.

"Take this as lesson, Steward-Prince," Ariael said, keeping still in her poise, her muscles tense, "you never underestimate opponent, you play directly to my strengths."

Boromir lowered his hands from his neck, revealing the swollen flesh that had already begun to darken to a deep purple. Legolas turned to look at the blade in Arial's hand, and the hilt that was faced toward Boromir's neck. She had turned the blade in her hand and simply hit him with the blunt hilt of her weapon.

Boromir shook his head in incredulity, "I thought you had killed me, I felt the pain of your blade hitting my flesh."

She grinned, sheathing her knives, "you be feeling that for time, you try fighting me again, when better."

Boromir stood, grimacing as his hand found his bruising neck, bending to pick up his sword and sheath it at his side, "well elleth, I suppose you might just be worth the trouble it took us to save your arse, you're a fierce little knife fighter."

Ariael extended a hand to Boromir, taking his arm in the same strange grip as she had Legolas's not a day earlier, "I am happy to be worth inconvenience," she replied, nodding to Boromir before turning to walk towards Legolas.

"There you go, lord Prince," she said, standing before him, "all takes is single feat of strength and skill, and receive honour of ally."

Legolas shook his head, a smile clear on his face, "you are very different to every elleth I have ever met, any elf as well. I don't think a single one of my people would have ever so blatantly ridiculed a man of Boromir's status."

She laughed, throwing her head back, basking in the light of the sun, "status means nothing to my people if not back it up with blade. When I training, I have the poorest of my people beating me. A man can name himself anything he wishes, but richest man will bleed and die in exact way as the poorest."

She turned to watch as Boromir lightly touched his neck, wincing at the swollen flesh, "Boromir is simple man, he respects strength, so I had earn respect with strength. Had he been more cautious, not throwing all weight behind single strike, it would be much more difficult to best him. I must be careful with little knives, is all too easy to lose finger, and I do not do well in large battle, but if close single combat, I deadly."

Legolas was just thinking of his response to that when Frodo asked a question.

"What is that?" the little hobbit asked, his hand pointed to the sky.

Ariael and Legolas turned to look where the young hobbit was pointing to see a massive black cloud moving towards them at an alarmingly fast rate. The members of the fellowship stood, each of them straining to see the black cloud.

"Whatever it is, it's moving fast, and against the wind," Boromir stated, a hand rubbing at his neck.

"Are those…are those birds?" Ariael asked, squinting at the mass of black writhing towards them.

"Crebain!" Aragorn shouted, "Crebain of Dunland, take cover!"

The fellowship burst into action, each of them scrambling to grab their packs in a frantic rush for the cover of the rocks. Legolas grabbed his own pack, throwing it over his shoulder where it forced his quiver painfully between shoulder blades. He ran to cover beside Aragorn, ushering two hobbits, Frodo and Sam, deeper inside the crevice created by the overhang of a large rock. He held himself very still, even keeping his breathing shallow as he watched the dark cloud of Crebain approach them. But then Aragorn shook him roughly.

"Legolas," he whispered gruffly, shaking his shoulder, "Legolas look, Ariael."

Legolas looked up to see Ariael standing in the open, her back to a separate rock across the clearing, her face to the sky as she watched the cloud of Crebain flying towards them.

"Ariael," Legolas called to her, in a harsh whisper, "Ariael come here, they're spies for the white wizard, you cannot let them see you."

Ariael turned to face him, her keen eyes glinting in the light from the sun, she gave him a little smirk, but didn't move from her position. She pushed herself into the flat face of the rock, the shadows falling across her face, shielding her from the light but leaving her very much in the sight of the Crebain. Legolas was about to hiss at her to run towards them again, when she simply disappeared.

Disappeared was not the right word for what she did, faded to nothing would have been a better description. It started with her hands, tendrils of shadow winding from the tips of her fingers up to her palm, making her skin melt into the darkness around her. The shadows wound their way up her forearm, and started lingering around her feet. Her skin and clothing melted into the shadows, the darkness working its way up her legs, arms and torso, finally leaving just her head. Her hair melted away, as did her cheeks and forehead, her nose fading into the darkness until only her eyes remained, twin silver lights in the shadows. Legolas could hardly believe what her was seeing, he could almost see the grin in her eyes as the shadows put out their glow. They were winding their way into her iris like a poison through veins, slowly blocking out the silver until a pair of glowing, solid black eyes glowed back at him.

And then the Crebain were on top of them, the sounds of their screaming piercing his elvish ears as they assaulted the very air above them. Their wings pounded as they flew just past them, circling back in a storm that blew his braids around his face like a hurricane, forcing the hair into his mouth, tangling in his fingers when he tried to pull at the long blond strands. They thundered past them, beating the air down over their heads, the wave of pure sound and force passing quickly over as they retreated back towards the mountains in the distance.

The fellowship held still for a few minutes, watching as the cloud of black retreated into the distance. A single hobbit head appeared from a rock cropping to Legolas's right, quickly followed by another, with Boromir not far behind them. Aragorn and Legolas followed, stepping from the cover of their rock, helping the hobbits up while keeping watchful eyes on the sky. Gimli however, simply hauled himself up from under his rock, allowing Gandalf to follow, and marched straight to where Ariael was hiding in the shadows.

"Well lass," he said gruffly, chuckling to himself, "that is a little trick I have never seen before. How d'ya do that lassie?"

Ariael laughed, her voice high and clear, before literally stepping out of the shadows. Her hand appeared first, the slender wrist next, before the rest of her body stepped from the shadows as if she had stepped from the other side of a doorway.

"I called Shadow of Wolf for reason, Gimli the dwarf lord," she stood in front of Gimli with a smile, "it meant literally, my people meld with shadows upon will."

Ariael showed Gimli how she could melt away into shadows, her hand disappearing into the darkness up to the wrist. It seemed she could only do this is darkness, as the light showed the skin she was hiding. Even Gandalf was shocked when Gimli went to touch her shadowed hand, and his own passed right through, unable to touch her.

Gandalf chuckled to himself, watching as Gimli swore in his surprise, "Lyali. Shadow of the Wolf indeed."

 **AN: So that's it for chapter three, stay tuned for chapter four (I promise it won't take as long, love youuuu)**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I know, I know, I hate myself too. So it's been a while since I've uploaded, I'm terribly sorry, but life you know XD. In other news, its Canada day, and I live in Ottawa, and I had time to finish up this chapter because of the sheer amount tourists that blocked literally every major road in downtown. Like I know I'm supposed to be all polite as a mystical, magical Canadian, but goddamn some of them can be idiots. I watched a pack literally flock to a random shiny black car thinking it was Justin Trudeau (the most magical Canadian of them all, he's gorgeous don't deny it). Well, rant over. I'm sorry for taking so long, I promise to try and do better, love you all, enjoy the chapter.**

Chapter 4:

The fellowship was miserable. The chill of the mountains clung to their bones, weighing down each step they took, wearing down both their bodies and their souls. The wind swirled around their feet, ripping their cloaks this way and that, tangling in their ankles, biting at any exposed skin. Legolas tugged his scarf up higher on his face, covering his mouth and nose against the cold, the flesh around his eyes stung in the cold. The chatter was at a minimum, no one joked or played fighting games, all their energy went to walking through the terrors of the mountain. Gandalf's magic allowed them the luxury of hot meals, but it seemed even that was reaching its end as energy it took maintaining as fire in the howling winds was draining the poor old wizard. Cooking itself was an arduous task, as the poor hobbits fingers froze as they cooked their sausages, despite even the hottest flames that Gandalf could conjure.

Legolas and Ariael were better off that the others, although Legolas was definitely the most fortunate of the pair. As elves, they were inherently lighter than the dwarves, hobbits, men and wizard, and did not sink up to their waists, or chests for the poor little halflings. Aragorn and Boromir tried to trudge a path through the deep snow, clearing it as much as the could for the poor hobbits behind them. The little halflings were truly suffering with the cold piercing their little bodies, and Gandalf's old body was not handling it any better. Gimli was putting on a good show, but it was clear that he was not fairly the best in the deep snow either. It seemed that Ariael was not quite as light as Legolas, for she sank into the snow to the middle of her calves, and she grumbled about snow in her boots just like the rest of the fellowship.

As they traveled, their path had turned more and more treacherous. The road quickly narrowed, twisting higher up into the mountains with every step, the steepness of their climb taking just as much of a toll of the fellowship as the snow. With each gust of howling wind threatening to throw them off the edge, they stuck close to the wall of the mountainside. The fall from their height would mean death, to plummet down far below, so faraway that even his elvish eyes could not see, although that could have been the fault of the thick snow that clouded his vision. The vast whiteness extended as far as Legolas could see.

Ariael swore ahead of him, stopping to reach a hand down into her boot where she most certainly found a wad of snow, yanking it out and throwing it against a wall with such contempt he couldn't help but chuckle. As her home islands were much warmer than even the shire, she was not prepared for such cold weather, and as such she wore a strange, mismatched set of oversized clothing borrowed from the fellowship. She had grumbled at first, loathing to part with her own clothing in exchange for strange foreign clothing. But as the weather turned colder, she had turned from complaining about the thick and itchy materials to being rather grateful for the thicker clothing. She wore one of his thicker green tunics, which hung down to her knees, with an even larger dark brown jerkin from Boromir. Her pants poofed out before meeting her own black leather boots, with a thick brown cloak from Aragorn that dragged in the snow behind her, swirling around her feet in the wind with its deep hood shadowing her face beneath it. Every once in a while, Legolas could swear he could see her twin silver eyes glinting from beneath her hood, lights in the darkness shrouding her appearance.

In short, she looked absolutely ridiculous. As if sensing his thoughts about her attire, she turned to give him what he assumed was a scathing look, although he could not see it under her low hood. He started to laugh, a feeling of cheer that seemed to warm his body, driving the cold from his bones. She seemed to pause for a moment, as if not quite knowing what to do about the laughing elf before her, but then her shoulders began to shake with laughter to match his own. The wind spun around them with a new force, blowing the hood from her head. Her black scarf was tied tight around her mouth and nose, covering her ears leaving only her eyes exposed. Her hair whipped around her face, many braids winding and twisting into a single thick plait that blew behind her with smaller strands looping around the frame of her face. He couldn't see the smile on her face, but the laughter and joy was clear in her eyes, and he was happy to have brought joy to her where there was so little before. But the moment lasted but a second.

The cold thickened suddenly, pushing down upon the fellowship with such an intensity that Legolas could swear he sunk an inch or too deeper into the snow. He bent to his knees, resting his hands on the snow to balance himself under the pressure from above. The fellowship looked up to the sky, fear plain on their faces, as the wind itself seemed to shout at them, cursing them in a strange old tongue that Legolas could not recognize.

"Saruman!" Gandalf shouted over the gale-force winds that spun his beard around his face, "he is trying to bring down the mountain!"

Gandalf swung his arms out, his staff in front of him as he added his own chant to the squalls, his voice howling in competition with that of the white wizard's. The rest of the fellowship huddled close to the mountainside, clinging to the frozen rocks as they tried to avoid being blown off the mountain. Gandalf seemed to be holding the wind back from the fellowship as best he could, it buffeted against an invisible wall, ripping at it, intent on shattering its fragile hold.

What happened next happened so suddenly, that Legolas hardly realized it until it was all over. With a sharp crack the ice above their heads was ripped from the mountainside, falling with an incredible force upon their heads. He saw Ariael throw herself at Gandalf, forcing him towards the mountainside and to safety before dropping to her stomach on the ice, covering her head and the back of her neck with her arms as she braced for the impact. The snow landed on his head with such an intensity that Legolas blacked out for a second, catching a final glimpse of the young elleth curled on the ground before his vision went to black.

Legolas came to but a moment later. He could see only black until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. It took him a second to realize where he was, stuck below the snow, not really knowing which way was up. He quickly cleared the snow from in front of his face, before spitting into his hand, watching as the saliva tracked itself up his palm and fingers. He sighed, before setting to work turning himself around in the snow, climbing up to where his feet were while trying to prevent the snow from collapsing further on top of him.

He broke the surface to the blinding sun, blinking a few times to see Aragorn and Boromir doing the same, each of the men trying to adjust their vision to the sudden brightness. Beside Aragorn a small hand shot up through the snow, grasping at the empty air desperately. Quickly, the two men and the elf set to finding and digging up the hobbits, while Gimli sprung from the white stuff with a roar, dragging Gandalf to the surface next to him. Soon, all four hobbits were gasping on the surface, frightened stiff from the brush of death that had tried to squeeze the very air from their lungs. Frodo was leaning against Sam, while Pippin and Merry stared off into the distance, the shock clear on their faces as their eyes were glazed over and unfocused.

"Where's Ariael?" Legolas asked, feeling something akin to a fist grip his heart as his eyes flitted across the snow, searching for the young elleth, but she was no one to be found.

"Why, she was standing over there!" Pippin said, his voice shaking as he pointed to where she had stood…which was now simply open air, as the downfall of snow had caused the overhang to collapse. The spot where Ariael had been curled up but a moment earlier was now a sharp edge, a fall leading no where but down into the white nothingness below them.

"No!" Legolas shouted, lurching towards the edge. He couldn't believe Ariael was gone, a simple fall seemed wrong to be the end of the Elleth considering what she had been through. An elleth from a lost race, tortured for days, only to die a lonely death falling off a mountain. Legolas didn't believe it, there was no way it could be true, and yet fear and hopelessness blanketed his heart.

"Over here!" Boromir shouted, standing a few feet to Legolas's left, above a dark brown robe that blew violently in the wind, clinging to the rough rock below his feet. The wind buffeted her violently, and Legolas swore he saw her slender fingers slide farther off the rock, her knuckles white beneath her torn gloves.

Ariael lifted her head, her scarf had ripped clean from her face and was wrapped around her neck. Her olive skin was bright with red as the freezing winds irritated her face, her eyes squinted against their ferocity. For some reason, he noted how pink the tops of her ears were, they were healing nicely, the ragged edges smoothed over and he swore he could see the beginning of the typical elvish tips. She gave the briefest of smiles as she struggled to hold onto the rocks. Legolas's heart soared once more, ripping free from fear and despair, only lasting for a moment when he realized the predicament the poor elleth was in.

"It's been a pleasure, Legolas, prince of the woodland realm, but I fear my time travelling with you is at its end," she said, her voice scarcely over a whisper, barely audible over the howling of the winds.

"No!" Legolas shouted, dropping to his knees in front of her, shoving Boromir out of his way. He reached an arm down in desperation, somehow knowing he was never going to be able to reach her, "We will save you! I promise it on my honour as an Elf of Mirkwood!"

Ariael laughed, her airy voice piercing the winds, despite how calm and quiet she was, "I don't doubt your honour, my prince, but I do doubt the reach of your arm. Besides, this ground is unstable, I do not wish you to fall with me"

She shifted her grip on the rocks, gasping slightly when the rocks beneath her fingers cracked and crumbled, she looked up at him wildly, her hair blowing around her face, her eyes bright with fear. Legolas turned back to the rest of the fellowship in a panic, looking for help on each of their faces, but it seems that each of them had given up hope just like the elleth beneath him.

He opened his mouth to shout at them, to plea for their aid in saving Ariael, but the sound that greeted him was foul and heavy. The voice of Saruman once again howled in the winds, this time a horrible laugh that grated upon his ears and drove him to cover them with his hands, but the voice was in his head as much as it was in his ears. He was just questioning what Saruman hoped to gain from this when Gandalf's panicked voice shouted into the wind.

"Run Legolas! Leave her and save yourself!" The wizard was clear through the snow, terror clear on his old and wizened face.

A sharp snap pierced the air, and he felt the ground beneath his feet quake and tremble, before falling away from the mountain. A rift appeared in the snow as the rock beneath him separated from the rest of the

Time moved in slow motion, he saw Aragorn and Boromir lurch toward him with outstretched arms, knowing they would never make it to him in time. He saw each of the hobbits eyes flare with fear, saw Gimli hoist his axe and yell at the sky, and Gandalf throw his arms to the side in a last attempt to stop the magic of the white wizard.

But Legolas stood calmly, lifting his hand to Aragorn in an Elvish farewell, before turning to face the vast whiteness beneath him that was to be his end. He met the rolling eyes of Ariael as she thrashed in the air, reaching for a hold that was no longer there. With a calmness, he hadn't known he was capable of, bent his legs and pushed off the falling rock beneath him with all the strength he possessed, throwing himself towards her. With a strong sureness, he gripping onto one of her flailing arms, holding her cold hand tight as he met her gaze, his green eyes meeting her silver as the pair of them fell into the air.

Ariael smiled slowly, her movements relaxing as she reached out and held his other hand in hers, pulling him close as the winds screamed into their ears. They danced in the air, a strange and dangerous waltz in the sky as her hair pulling loose from its coils to join his flying around their heads. Their only music was the whistling flutes of the wind and the thundering drums of their robes whipping around them.

Despite the overwhelming loudness of the mountains music, he could hear her clear as day when she pulled him close and whispered into his ear.

"You daft one, my Prince. I fear this be end of us both, and yet somehow, I think I really should fear being annoyed by your idiocy for while longer.

Legolas smiled, clutching the Lafean elleth close to him, drawing comfort from her warmth as they plummeted into the cold white unknown.

 **AN: Aaaaaaaannnnnnnndddddd, with that I leave you with a cliff hanger, I'd say I'll try and upload quickly, but I might just take another month to upload (whoops, still terribly sorry¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ).**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Oh my goodness, I know. I actually uploaded the next chapter in a reasonable time frame, I'm just as shocked as you. If I'm being completely honest, I have a physics exam in three days, and I be procrastinating like a champ. But like, let's be real, fanfiction will forever be better than integrals, mirrors and oscillations. So anywho, enjoy the chapter, maybe I'll keep this streak up. Thanks fam.**

Chapter 5

Cold. Pain.

Pain. Howling of the wind.

A flash of white, followed by a pain so sharp he was dragged back into the darkness.

Nothing.

Cold. Pain. Cold.

Consciousness.

Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain. Cold. Pain.

Wind searing his skin.

Black.

At some point, the cloud of pain that forced him into blackness receded, and he regained consciousness for longer than a few seconds. He blinked awake, pain still darting between his temples as he struggled to focus in the brightness of his surroundings. His head pounded with a ferocity he closed his eyes once more, now keenly conscious of the shrieking winds and the dull pain across his right cheek. He winced as he opened his eyes a crack, the light and the cold of the winds nearly forcing them closed once again. He rose a frozen hand up to his face, touching the numbed and burning skin there, the shock barely registering when his glove came away with blackened, oozing skin.

Frostbite. He must have been lying in the cold wind for some time, and the strength of the wind heaping snow on top of his prone limbs, slowly burying him under the freezing white stuff. He was very confused, foggy as to how he'd gotten himself into this latest predicament. The freeze seemed to have numbed his brain as well, since it was taking so long for him to remember anything of relevance. He shook his head, an action almost immediately regretted as pain arched across his temples once more, with a grimace he opened his eyes to the elements, finally able to look around.

Snow was in every direction he looked, it covered is legs and arms, deep enough to tell him he had been unconscious for a few hours. He sat up trying to take a closer look at the foreign landscape around him, almost blacking out again at the pain in his left shoulder. He swore and rose his right arm up to his shoulder, shifting it with enough pain to know it was dislocated, the arm loose and heavy, his fingers tingling. He couldn't bring himself to pop his arm back in now, the pain he was already feeling was too great, and he didn't want to black out again.

Close to his right, he saw a black piece of fabric, nearly covered by the snow, and quickly recognized it as a scarf. He was puzzled for a moment, pondering the fabric, but then memories came flashing back. The fellowship and the ring, the slow trip up through the winding mountains. He remembered the attack of the white wizard, and his fall through the air into the white nothingness, the firm grip of a cold hand around his.

Ariael.

Legolas lurched towards her, his body harshly punishing him for the quickness of his movement with a pain arching from his toes to the back of his neck, causing him to gasp at the soreness of his abused limbs as black spots dancing across his vision. He grimaced through the pain and pulled himself next to Ariael, working his frozen fingers at uncovering the elleth from the snow, as her entire body was covered in it. He carefully rolled her over so she was practically in his lap, the back of her head under his legs. The skin across her nose, cheeks and forehead had begun to blacken, not even her freshly healing ear tips had been spared. He thought she was asleep at first, which would have been a mercy, until her silver eyes lazily opened, her painfilled gaze meeting his.

"You awake?" she asked, her voice cracking as tried to talk, "you sleep like dead elf, I get bored of waiting.

Legolas didn't laugh at her little joke, as she spoke her split lips had begun to bleed, and the blacken skin across her poor face oozed with fluid that froze in the cold winds, leaving frost clinging to her pale skin.

"What happened?" Legolas asked, as he struggled to pull her scarf and hood around her face, though the fabric had frozen solid.

"We fell for long time," she croaked, licking her bleeding lips, "you pass out quickly. hen we hit ground you land on top, we sink far into snow. I tried best to drag you up, but my ribs hurt bad, I tried protect you from winds."

Legolas was rather shocked, no wonder he was so uninjured, he had the elleth to cushion his fall, and she had even dragged him on top of the snow bank. And from the positioning of her body, she had laid down to protect him from the howling winds before she had collapsed.

And now she was dying.

He could see the cold clinging to her like death itself, and no amount of clothing would save her from the unyielding ferocity of the wind. He had to get her out of the winds, and fast, or the elleth was as good as dead.

Legolas roughly pulled her scarf tight around her face, covering her ears while being careful not the touch the frostbitten skin on her face, lest it peel off as his had. He gritted his teeth and hauled one of her arms over his right shoulder, ignoring the sharp pains in his left. He bore her weight as he pulled them both to their feet, sinking up to his calves in the snow, he could feel her sway against him, too weak to do more than try her best to be an easy load.

And then, Legolas started to trudge through the snow. He didn't know which way to go, he could hardly see two feet in front of his own face, and yet he trudged. Their only hope was to keep moving and find shelter, she would be dead within the hour, and he not soon after. The wind shoved him in every direction and the snow pulled at his boots, but he refused to stop moving, no matter how slow he progressed. Slowly, Arial's feet began to drag just a little more in the snow, and her weight got more heavy and awkward as she lost the strength required to hold herself upright.

When her head lolled back and her body went completely slack, he knew his hour was almost up. She was a deadweight in his arms, her legs dragging behind them as he struggled to drag her on, refusing to leave the elleth no matter how much she struggled against him, shoving him weakly and moaning in pain. He could practically see her fading, the silver of her eyes dulling to an empty gray that made her face seem hollow as a corpse.

He didn't know where she managed to sum up the strength, but suddenly she slapped him. It wasn't a hard blow, but it definitely got his attention. He looked at her face, as frost clung to the sides of her mouth and nose, even to her eyelashes, she struggled to make her mouth and tongue to cooperate, trying to form words. Her eyes were rolling in her head, and her words were slurred, but she managed to get out one rough word before passing out completely.

"There."

She had lifted up the poor, frozen hand she had used to slap him, and pointed slightly off to their left, before letting it drop back down by her side like a deadweight, and just like that she was gone to the world.

Legolas tried his best to focus in the direction she had been pointing, and somehow, through the snow and sleet that whirled around him, he could see a dark shape. With newfound energy, Legolas pulled the elleth through the snow, as the dark shape came more into focus with each step. He had a moment of pure despair when he realized it was just a rock, but then he saw what lay behind it.

A cave in the mountainside. A shelter from the howling winds. As quickly as he could, he hauled Ariael into the dark maw of the cave, only stopping when he couldn't feel a whisper from the winds, he gently set her down again the wall of the cave, struggling from the lack of light. His shoulder screamed as he shifted her weight, causing red spot to dance across his eyes, threatening to make him pass out once more.

That would not due. With a swift crack, he yanked his injured arm up above his head, feeling his fingers thwack against his back.

And the pain so sharp his eyes welled with tears.

He stumbled forward, bracing himself on the wall with his good hand, struggling to focus on the elleth through the darkness and the tears leaking down his cheeks. He could see the cold puffs of air she breathed out, her breathing irregular, coming out in erratic bursts.

He quickly dropped to his knees before her, grabbing her hands and almost yelping at the coldness of her skin on his. Her skin was cracked and black, oozing clear fluid and a little blood, the rest of her skin as pale as the snow outside. He needed to warm her up but how? His mind rushed in circles, unable to come up with coherent thoughts,

Fire. He needed fire.

He cursed himself, the cold was meddling with his mind, leaving his thoughts hasty and uncontrolled. He took a breath to calm himself, before trying to tend to the elleth once more. He threw his pack from his back, only just now remembering he still had it, and began rummaging through its contents. He prayed to every god and goddess he could think of as he searched for it. Current and ancient gods of the elves, those he could remember of the dwarves and men, gods from myths so unfamiliar he could only remember their names.

Someone must have heard him.

He closed his hand on the cold metal tube, pulling out the little rod with a cry of relief. He threw the rod down in front of Ariael, and chanted the simple spell required to make this little rod work. He made a note in his mind to thank Elrond for his little gift, as it probably just saved both their hides.

The rod flared to life, a bright warm flame that showered him with warmth, illuminating the entire cave with light. Legolas lifted his head to look at Ariael, a smile wide on his face, and he nearly screamed from pure surprise and terror.

He had been so busy searching and panicking, he hadn't heard it approach, and now it was in striking distance of both him and Ariael, and he was as unarmed and helpless as the unconscious elleth.

It was a beast of legend, a wolf so large it dwarfed the dire wolves used by the Orcs. It was one of the great moon wolves of lore. They were believed dead long ago, but their tales of ferocity and hunger survived. He could remember being told tales of these wolves taking out hundreds of elves before being taken down, and the terrible anger one would face if they harmed a wolf of a pack. Its fur glistened with silver, the brightness of the stars woven into its coat by the moon goddess herself. It was almost triple the size of the largest war horses, one of its canines easily the length of one of his hunting daggers. Its keen eyes wild and untamed, shone with the white light of the moon itself. In legends, they hunted in tight knit packs, moving as a single predator, wiping out any life from their paths. They were told to be lethal.

And this ones powerful jaw was mere feet from Ariael's head.

Legolas froze, staring at the massive beast to his left, not even daring to move his head for fear he should find it to be missing not soon after. His muscles tensed as the wolf padded closer to the elleth, sniffing her tangled hair, nuzzling her neck, those silver eyes alive with intelligence as it curiously examined the girl.

Legolas nearly cried out loud when the wolf opened its maw and clamped down on the back of Ariael's robes, he lunged for his hunting knives as it dragged her closer to it. He was going to protect her on his dying breath, even knowing this was a fight with the odds stacked against him. He ripped his hunting knives free with the loud scrape of metal on metal, and froze once more.

The wolf had pulled Ariael close, and wrapped its body around her, laying its great head on its paws, giving out a long canine sigh. The wolf had wrapped Arial up in its massive body, letting the sleeping elleth lay in its silver fur.

Ariael was using a legendary beast, that could rip her apart in a second, as a pillow.

Legolas lowered his knives in shock, and he swore he could almost see the wolf roll its eyes at him. Ariael gave a sigh and curled closer, digging her frozen hands under its fur, clearly enjoying the warmth of the massive animal. Legolas was so confused he really didn't know what to do with himself, this massive beast was supposed to be a lethal, killing machine. If the tales were true, it should have ripped them to shreds the second Legolas had tripped into its cave. And yet it wasn't harming them, it was actually saving Arial's life by sharing its warmth.

Then it dawned on him.

Ariael's chosen name was Lyali, the Shadow of the Wolf. She had told him she had a knack for wolves as her blood brother had for horses.

This wasn't exactly how he had imagined that knack would manifest.

As soon that he realized that Ariael was no longer in immediate harm, exhaustion suddenly hit him, so hard his arms dropped to the ground and his entire body sagged. He left his knives unsheathed and crawled towards his little fire rod, keeping his eyes on the wolf at all times. The wolf stared back, the force of its gaze made Legolas want to cower and crawl, to drop his eyes at once, and yet he refused to do so. He sat next to his fire rod, letting the basking in the warmth and his cold and beaten body finally relax, glaring at the wolf. He leaned back against the wall where Ariael had been but a moment before, giving the wolf a warning glare as his eyes began to droop. He tried his hardest to stay awake, not fully trusting the massive wolf with the elleth so helpless, but sleep was relentlessly pulling him closer.

Just before he fell asleep, he saw the wolf snort, as if scoffing at the glare of the little elf prince. The wolf turned and gave Ariael a gentle nuzzle, tucking her closer into his fur as she slumbered. Somehow Legolas knew he didn't have to worry, the beast wouldn't dare to hurt her, not after the affection it showed in caring for her.

Finally, he felt his eyes droop shut one last time, and let sleep take hold of him.

 **AN: So there yah go, they live (obviously, I'm not gonna kill off my two main characters, at least not this early ;) mwahahahaha) Have a grand day my peeps, review if yah wanna, I have some procrastinating to get back to**


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